


asgardians are a bunch of fucktrucks

by thesilverwitch



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crack, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Okay very cracky, kind of cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:38:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesilverwitch/pseuds/thesilverwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers are sent to another universe by the Enchantress in a stupor of rage.</p><p>A <i>magical universe</i>, it should be noted, where there are trolls, dwarves and elves. Oh and dragons, of course, who could ever forget about them. After all, if there were no dragons, who would burn down the villages?</p><p>A story in which Tony is annoyed at everything (most of all the magic, the elves and the <i>magic</i>), Thor's apologetic and honestly, Bruce's just happy he found a shirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	asgardians are a bunch of fucktrucks

**Author's Note:**

> The city mentioned here is inspired by Ankh-Morpork from the Discworld series by Terry Pratchett (one day I'll do a Discworld!AU, one day...). This story has an amazing collection of bad jokes, and it took me ages to finish it, but hey, at least it's funny. Hope everyone enjoys reading this, I know I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> All mistakes are mine. Any critiques, comments, reviews or basic spell-checks are always appreciated. xx

Asgardians are a bunch of fucktrucks.

Tony has already left Pepper a message asking her to put that on his tombstone in big, bolded letters, right beneath his name. She’ll have it written regardless of whether Tony dies today at the hands of a crazy Asgardian—a redundant title if you ask Tony, since they’re all crazy—or dies fifty years from now from a heart attack.

The statement will always be true, and if anyone tries to disprove him, Tony has numerous bruises, photos, videos and even threats engraved on rocks—asgardians are also tremendously old fashioned—from the bastards that can shut up anyone.

Of course, there are also cool Asgardians, like Thor, Tony’s not saying otherwise. You need to be a special kind of crazy to dislike Thor, but the truth of the matter is that it’s always that special kind of crazy raising hell in New York City because of Thor, who seems to be a magnet for trouble. This lands him squarely in ‘fucktruck’ space.

Tony had once asked him what he’d done to make people so mad they’d literally travel through various realms to get revenge on him. Thor had looked so hurt by Tony’s—innocent, mind you, he was genuinely curious—question that Tony had found himself backtracking faster than one could say, “Thor, your brother is the biggest little shit in the Universe and that’s just something nobody can deny.”

Funny enough, today the hell raiser isn’t Loki, who, according to Thor, is back in jail in Asgard—and if anyone believes that they’re getting glared into oblivion by Tony and the rest of the Avengers because _ah_ , yes, Loki in jail, _sure_. Today the Avengers have been given the wonderful pleasure of fighting the Enchantress, one of Thor’s old girlfriends who is still pinning and who, guess what, yes, you’ve probably guessed right, is a huge fucktruck with magical powers.

And to think it’s only Tuesday, and they still have a whole week ahead of them to deal with more asslamps.

“Iron Man, at your twelve o’clock, a bunch of… sabertooth kittens?” Hawkeye calls over the comms. Tony knows his teammates’ voices so well that he can picture Clint frowning at whatever he’s seeing in perfect clarity, as if he’s standing right in front of Tony and not on top of a skyscraper.

“Got it, thanks,” Tony replies, taking a minute to survey the scene. Like Hawkeye had told him, in front of him are, indeed, a bunch of creatures that look like kittens, if kittens happened to be the size of motorcycles and have fangs capable of ripping metal apart.

Tony hesitates for a second before he brings out the stun guns. Better safe than sorry in case they go back to being regular kittens after the Enchantress is dealt with.

“I’m stunning them,” Tony calls over the comms, flying a safe distance above the kittens while he takes them down. Buggers like these tend to jump higher than physics should allow, and Tony’s not taking any chances.

“Good call,” Cap says. He’s always paying attention to everything around him, something Tony begrudged him for when they first formed their crazy team. It felt like Cap didn’t trust any of them and was always on their asses to make sure they didn’t fuck up, but eventually Tony realized that was just who he was. Attentive, careful, a brilliant tactician who needs to know the movements of all the pieces on the board to plan a winning strategy. Now that Tony could respect. “Widow, behind you. The trees are getting off the ground and walking.”

“We’ve got some crazy Lord of the Rings bullshit going on now? The fuck,” Hawkeye whispers, glaring at the trees as he shoots off arrows with a sticky substance that will keep them glued to the ground where they belong.

In a normal fight against your usual little shit trying to destroy Manhattan—and what the hell did it say about the Avengers that they now considered certain fights against people trying to destroy Manhattan _normal_ —Cap would chuckle and say, “I understood that reference,” whenever one of them made a funny comment like that, but this time he only grunts as he body lifts a sentient car and smashes it against the ground. If this isn’t a clear enough signal to Tony that the fight is getting way out of hand, nothing will be.

“Cap, this is getting out of control. Somebody needs to tell Thor reasoning with your ex never works and then punch the Enchantress or I’ll do it myself,” Tony says, shooting a couple of small missiles against the trees Clint hasn’t gotten to yet. There’s a time to love nature, and there’s a time to kick ass. Tony figures this is the latter.

“On it,” the Black Widow replies, jumping off a car and running towards Central Park, where Thor has been for the past thirty minutes trying to talk down the Enchantress from wreaking havoc. So far he’s been doing a piss poor job at it.

“With the talking to or the punching?” Tony asks.

Even though he can’t see her, he can still hear the grin in Natasha’s voice. “Both.”

“Give her a second punch from me, she deserves it for setting those flying squirrels on us,” Clint adds. If he weren’t so far away, Tony would fly up to him to give him a high five.

“Focus, everyone. The fight’s not over yet,” Steve reminds them, but he doesn’t sound stern, and Tony’s sure that if he didn’t have to keep up appearances, Steve would be making a similar comment.

One of the perks of being an Avenger is that you discover Captain America is not the uptight, annoying clown he looks like, which, okay, maybe Tony was the only one thinking that before, but he’s not now so it’s fine, really. Now he knows Steve has a sense of humour like the rest of them, just keeps it in closer check when they’re out in public.

He also knows Steve likes to draw from life in his free time; and that he hates the taste of cinnamon, but will eat it anyway because he hates throwing out food even more, which is how Tony finds himself saying he’ll eat Steve’s leftovers if Steve is full, even though they both know Steve’s never full and Tony dislikes the taste of cinnamon as much as he does. Tony knows a lot about Steve, actually, and he’s not supposed to since he’s horrible at remembering things, but he still does and, well. Tony’s not thinking about it, not right now, not when New York’s being torn apart at the hands of a witch. He won’t think about it later either, but he’ll pretend he doesn't know this.

He turns around and begins to fly in Central Park’s direction just in time to hear the Enchantress spit out, “If you love your perfect Avenger friends so much, Thor, then be with them in a damn perfect world, forever.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound good,” Tony says, and since he has the survival instincts of a blind baby turtle, keeps flying in the direction of the obvious danger. From his current position, all he can see is a ball of green light where the Enchantress had been a few seconds ago.

“Guys, something’s happening to me,” Clint says. Tony curses internally, getting one of the cameras in the nearby area show him Clint being surrounded by the same green light. A quick look through his feed shows all the other Avengers—himself included—being surrounded by the same light as the ball in the park grows bigger.

“Widow, Thor, get out of there. Tony, we need to figure out what’s happening and stop—” Steve tries to say, cut off as the green light around him surrounds his head. Tony has just one second to panic before the light surrounds him as well, and then he doesn’t have time to feel anything at all.

* * *

Time travel, or space travel, or whatever the fuck they just went through, hurts like a motherfucker.

It’s shocking, ridiculous even, how the human body wasn’t made to travel through space and time at god knows how many miles per hour. Tony would have appreciated if the villain of the week had remembered that, but he’s probably asking for too much. In any case, he makes a mental note to look into it because he’s not going through this again without some added protection.

The only thing that makes him feel better is seeing everyone else in a similar state.

Tony manually releases the catches on his helmet and throws it away so he can breathe some fresh air. JARVIS isn’t responding, but the arc reactor is still working, so Tony’s not freaking out yet.

His ears are ringing with a high pitch from hell, his mouth tastes of old cotton and his vision is blurred by various white spots that go round and round above his head, like little angels.

Alright, maybe he should be freaking out a little.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Clint says from the ground, receiving a shove from Natasha.

“Don’t do it on me.”

Steve and Thor are the first to get up—no surprise there—and Bruce, back from Hulk form, seems to be out for the count for now. Nobody is dead or seriously injured and they still have their weapons, so it can be said that, overall, they’re doing okay. The fact that they’re in some random woods with trees as fat as elephants is, at the moment, a detail Tony is willing to ignore.

“Where are we?” Steve asks, looking around and disregarding Tony’s wish that nobody asks pertinent questions like that until his head stops spinning and his stomach goes back to where it belongs.

“Suit’s internals are offline, so is JARVIS,” Tony says, trying in vain to get up and giving his helmet a poke in hopes it will give it life, “give me a minute.”

“Not in New York, or anywhere else in the USA I think,” Natasha adds, quick to get up and compose herself even though Tony knows for a fact that she has to be feeling as sick as he and Clint are.

“Asia?” Steve asks, making Natasha shrug.

“Maybe. We should take a look around, see if we can find a road.”

Tony shakes his head and gets up with Steve’s help, another thing that would have pissed him off months ago and now just leaves him grateful. It’s funny how someone can go from annoying asshole back from the land of the frozen to make your life hell to, well, a friend. Close friend. Best friend? Possibly, Tony’s not sure, let’s settle on close friend for now.

“How’s the suit?” Steve asks him, quietly so the others don’t hear him.

“Fully functional as far as I can tell, but something must have messed with the automatic systems, and without them and JARVIS it’s just a useless pile of metal.”

“No backups?” Steve asks, surprise written all over his face.

“JARVIS is the backup,” Tony says with a grin that’s too sharp to be friendly.

It’s his fault. Tony is supposed to be prepared for everything, but even he doesn’t hold all the answers. JARVIS is supposed to work regardless of Tony’s location, so the fact that he’s not means either whatever they went through fried the suit’s internal components, or they’re very, very far away from home. Either option sounds terrible, which makes Tony decide to keep them both to himself and turn back to the suit to see if he can get it back into suitcase shape.

Thor picks up Bruce—bridal style, Tony can’t noticing—and Clint and Natasha take the lead, navigating through the trees in what, to Tony, looks like a completely random direction, but is probably a carefully chosen path, based on the direction of the wind and the color of the grass beneath their feet, or some other ridiculous superspy skill.

After thirty minutes of walking without encountering a single sign of human life—or any life, for that matter—Clint voices the question Tony has been dreading to ask.

“Do you think the Enchantress sent us to a planet with no sentient life? Because if so, I say we might as well start killing each other now.”

“No one’s killing anyone,” says Steve, glaring at the back of Clint’s head. “She couldn’t have done that anyway, could she?” he asks Thor, who looks both embarrassed and apologetic, the way he always does whenever someone from home shows up to start shit.

“I have never know the spells of the Enchantress to be that powerful. I’m sure we will find someone soon.”

“Or someone will find us…” Clint murmurs, loud enough for all of them to hear. Tony throws a small rock at the back of his head for Steve, since he knows Steve would never do it himself.

When Steve turns to glare at him, Tony flashes him his most charming smile and Steve’s expression softens to something akin to fondness.

Tony doesn’t doubt that Steve has gotten over whatever hangups they had at the start like Tony has, but it’s still nice to be reassured every so often that they’re on good terms. Very good terms. Warm terms? Whatever the expression is for people who stare at each other for too long, because of course Tony noticed that, he’s not an oblivious idiot. If he hasn’t said anything about it, it’s because it’s Steve, and really, can anyone judge him for being careful?

There might be something there between the two of them, something that began to grow when Tony made it his official job to make sure Steve caught up on all the pop culture he needed for a full, happy life. Something built on too many nights spent in the workshop, with Tony working on whatever needed to be done and Steve sketching next to him. Something that’s both easy and mind boggling difficult, as if a relationship between Captain America and Iron Man could be anything else.

“Come on, old man. Help me carry the suit, can’t let the young snappers do all the work,” Tony jokes, making Steve laugh and take the suitcase from him like it doesn’t weight a single ounce, much less it’s full one-hundred and twenty-five pounds.

Tony’s going strong after forty—maybe fifty, he’s been pushing it lately—hours without sleep, and growing more frustrated with the situation they’re in with every step he takes, and yet he can’t help but act all sappy about it and think it could be worse. He could be alone, without Clint there to grumble about everything with him and Natasha looking bemused by their antics; without Bruce, who will soon be up and about inspecting the flora and Thor, who looks like he could save the whole universe with a flick of his wrist. He could be alone without Steve there looking at him every so often and just smiling at him, and fuck it all, if that doesn’t make everything better.

Pepper’s right. He’s getting soft. Oh, how almost dying twenty seven times changes you.

“Hey guys, I found a road,” Clint calls from far ahead where he’d been exploring on his own.

Said road is actually a dirt path, set on the ground with rocks on each side, all different sizes, giving the impression someone had picked them up and threw them to the side without caring too much about the look of their work. The track is wide enough to fit a small car, but definitely not anything bigger like a truck, not that it looks like any heavy machinery has ever used it.

Wild grass grows everywhere, and if it weren’t for the occasional patch of uncovered earth from where it’s been stepped on one too many times, you wouldn’t be able to tell if the path was still in use or not.

“Left or right?” Natasha asks.

“Does it matter?” Tony asks back.

“Guess not,” she says, and heads left.

The more they walk, the patchier the grass becomes, but they don’t come across any other road crossing theirs or any other signs of civilization. At some point Bruce wakes up, but he doesn’t say much. Tony figures that in the overall scheme of things, for Bruce, waking up in an unknown time and place, even on a possibly alien planet, is a rather minor thing.

The six of them walk for another two hours until finally they run into a town, although town is not exactly the right term. There is a massive wall around it, for starters, with a tower on each side of the only gate. As far as they can see, there’s only one guard there, and he’s taking a nap while standing at a parade rest, but the point still stands. Most towns Tony knows don’t need that kind—or any kind, for that matter—of protection. Small city then?

The Avengers end up hiding behind some of the trees like cheap burglars under Natasha’s and Clint’s instructions, in order to inspect the city from a safe location while they try to figure out if they can go in.

From what Tony can tell, this looks like any other city. Well, any other city in the 15th century, if his history knowledge isn’t failing him. The roads are made of cobble, the buildings are stone and wood, and there’s someone dumping a bucket of poop out the window. None of this sounds good since hello, 15th century, but hey, it could be worse. At least nothing’s on fire. Well, not yet anyway. There are no buildings taller than two stories high, but they’re all glued to each other and wood is not a good building material.

“Fire hazard,” Tony whispers.

“They’ll figure that out soon enough,” Clint replies.

The city is crammed with people, all of them different sizes and colors. Their clothes look like what you’d expect from a busy city in the 15th century, some extravagant and outlandish, full of color, others a mudded brown with various rips and badly sewn.

If they went in, they wouldn’t fit in with their outlandish outfits—Tony still can’t fully believe Thor has a real cape—but if this place is the bustling city it looks like, chances are no one will spare them a second glance.

Then Tony takes a second look at Steve’s red, white, and blue outfit and says, “we should probably steal some clothes before we go in.”

“We?” Natasha asks, grinning at him.

“If you and Mister Archer would be so kind,” Tony says, grinning back. "And bring some bags where we can put our stuff!" He asks just as Clint and Natasha leave their little hiding perch.

"Clothes, bags and swords, got it," Clint says, running off before Steve can stop him.

"No swords!" Steve calls, somehow getting his voice to sound like he’s shouting and speaking normally at the same time.

Tony starts to make a list of all the things they need to do to get back. Finding out where they are and what year they’re in is primary, although both things can be put aside in search for modern day technology and a workshop for Tony. Doesn't matter the time and place as long as he can put an anchor on 2014 New York and drag them all back, safe and sound.

"You know, in a way I'm happy things like this happen to us often, otherwise it'd be a lot harder to cope with all of this," Bruce says. "As it is, I would kind of like to have a shirt, but not even that is pressing."

Tony watches Steve wrinkle his nose and frown, while Thor claps Bruce on the back. "That is the spirit, my friend!"

"I'm not sure how I feel about that," Steve says.

Tony shrugs. "I'm blaming all of my reactions on lack of sleep."

Clint and Natasha are in and out in less than five minutes, having scoured one of the guard towers for clothes. After they’ve all changed, they go in, trying their best to look as casual as possible in the midst of the buzzling chaos of a city that has yet to discover plumbing and electricity.

“This place stinks,” Tony complains, scrunching his nose as his entire body tries to physically recoil from the smell.

“You’ll get used to it,” Natasha says, hitting Tony lightly on the head when he continues to gag.

They’re only a couple of meters inside the city when Tony moans, “Oh no, oh no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening,”

The corners of Tony’s mouth turn down as if pulled by an invisible weight attached to his lips while Tony gives the scene in front of him a look of pure disgust. This can’t be happening to him. He’s too old, too good-looking, too modern.

“What? What do you see?” Steve asks, quick to jump into full Captain America mode by pulling them all to the side so they can speak more privately. Tony’s eyes never stray from where they landed as he lets Steve move him around.

“I know where we are,” he says. His grand revelation isn’t met with any gasps of surprise or quickly fired requests for him to explain himself, which, alright, Tony wasn’t sure why he thought that would happen in the first place. “We’re in fairytale. Or a fairytale world, I’m not sure, but definitely not still on earth.”

One of the many great things about the Avengers is that they’re good at taking everything in stride, which is why nobody looks at Tony as if he’s insane like he almost wishes they would.

“What makes you think that?” Steve asks.

“It’s something about the way the Enchantress sent us to a ‘perfect world’,” Tony says, scratching his hair before he adds, “Also, that tavern by the corner called Troll’s Head has an actual troll head above its door, and I just saw two dwarves walk inside.”

Everyone turns around and looks at the tavern Tony is still staring at, where indeed, they can see with their own two eyes an ugly, gray head the size of a tricycle above the door. They all take a moment to process this, the silence finally broken by Clint when he says, “Does that mean there are dragons?”

"Dragons? But of course there are dragons," a shrill voice says from behind them, making them all whirl around. They all raise their arms and bend their knees, taking a fighting stance on instinct. Even Bruce moves to defend himself due to all the self-defence classes Steve insisted he take ‘just in case.’

Their actions turn out to be unnecessary when they notice the voice came from an old lady sitting in a small wooden box, harmless as can be.

“If there were no dragons, who would burn down the villages?” the old lady asks in such a condescending, my-logic-is-flawless tone that Tony has flashbacks to their marathon of the original Star Trek series with no breaks for sleep, which sounded pretty crazy at the time, but was incredibly tame compared to goddamn _dragons_.

"This is too horrible, I can't go on," Tony's lack of sleep says for him. It's also the lack of sleep—yes, that's right, he's rolling with that excuse from now on—that tells Tony's knees to cut the crap and would have Tony falling down if it weren't for Steve's quick reflexes.

"Tony," Steve says like he's talking to a petulant child, "it's not that bad, we've been through worse."

"Have we though? Have we really?" Tony asks. He's on a roll today.

Bruce elbows Tony in the stomach, the bloody traitor, effectively shutting Tony up while Natasha steps up and flashes the creepy old lady her most innocent, wide-eyed smile. Tony’s seen that smile in action numerous times now, but the sight is still a little frightening, knowing Natasha’s real smile is soft and small, and this one is part of a perfect skill set in the art of manipulation.

Tony should know, he’s owned a similar set since he was sixteen and realized there was little charm and money couldn’t buy.

“Excuse him,” Natasha says. “We’re not from here.”

“Yes, I can see that,” the old lady replies, her voice chillier than Fury’s on a bad day and her set in expression a deep, wrinkled frown.

Natasha’s smile doesn’t waver, nor does Clint’s, who’s standing a little to her left with a hand slowly reaching back to his bag with his bow and arrows. The tension in the air becomes almost palpable, a bitter smell of sulphur that clings to their clothes and skin like water after a heavy rainstorm, or maybe it’s just the city and it’s lack of sewage.

Regardless, Tony’s already mentally preparing himself for when they get into a fight and then run, or maybe run first and get into a fight somewhere in the process. He won’t be able to help much with the suit still offline, but he can always smash some heads with the suitcase and buy everyone some time.

“You’re in Markhor Knop. If you’re lost, you should go see the elves. Their bargains are unfair, but their magic can return you to where you came,” she says while her unwavering glare begins to burn holes into the fabric of the universe. Tony feels himself fidgeting under her gaze, which is simultaneously on him and everyone else.

“Thank you,” Natasha says, and just like that they’re turning around and leaving in that half-jogging pace of somebody who wants to run like crazy but can’t, so they settle for scurrying like their ass is on fire.

When they’re a safe distance away, Bruce asks, “Was it just me or did that old lady have three eyes?”

“Not just you,” Clint says, and grabs Tony’s arm to shove him forward when Tony almost whiplashes his neck trying to look back. “Nope, no staring. I think it’s better if we just leave. What’s the plan, guys?”

The question is directed at both Steve and Tony, who took the role of co-captain ever since Steve was on the other side of the world when A.I.M decided to take over Boston and they needed someone to wrangle the team together. Tony tried to get Natasha to take the job—he wasn’t a good team player, much less a good team leader—but all he got in return was a text saying “ahah” that possibly could have been from Clint.

Either way, Tony is now somewhat in charge, which means these questions are also directed at him. Normally this wouldn’t phase him all that much, except for the part where they are in a magical world with dragons and ladies with three eyes and his suit is not working and Tony is just about done with everything.

Fucking Tuesdays. Shit always happens on Tuesdays.

“Do you know anything about this place, Thor?” Steve asks, who always has his head in the game.

“I’m afraid not, Captain. I do not know this city, and, as far as I am aware, though similar in many aspects to others, this world is not one of the nine realms.”

Steve tries to think this over, but Tony can see he’s way in over his head. Steve’s brilliant skills at adapting to new worlds aside, the man works best with scenarios that are familiar to him, or at least scenarios he can turn familiar. But this? There’s nothing familiar about this, especially not to a kid who grew up in twenties Brooklyn and found himself in 21st century New York before he turned he was twenty-five.

Tony, on the other hand, practically lives in crazy. He finds this world beyond bizarre and plain wrong—there is _magic_ , way more than there is on Earth, which is already far too much—but he can work with it. Hell, worst case scenario, he’ll build them a portal from scratch. Bruce can help with the schematics, while Thor and Steve carry the heavy stuff and Clint and Natasha steal whatever they need. If The Doctor can travel through space and time then so can he.

Tony finally speaks up. “Let’s find somewhere we can stay the night since it’s getting dark, they must have an inn around here. We can try to get some more information by hitting the bars, see if anyone here knows the Enchantress or how to reverse her spell. Everyone knows the rules: don’t stand out, don’t start shit and don’t die.”

“The spy motto,” Clint says, nodding along solemnly. Tony rewards him with a grin.

“And then tomorrow we’ll regroup, and go from there. We can see if this place has any technology we can use, or a local group of Avengers we can bother.”

“We could always go see the elves,” Bruce says. Tony squints at him as if he’s suddenly switched bodies with an ant.

“Or we could go see the elves, the _magical_ elves, _sure_.”

“What?” Bruce asks, rolling his eyes when he realizes where Tony is getting at, “Tony, just because your business card says you belong to the ‘Association of Spirited Scientists’” Bruce hunches his fingers to make air quotes, “it doesn’t make it a real thing.”

“How dare you? You have a card too!”

“That you gave me and that I don’t use.”

Steve, who has ten full centimeters on Bruce and Tony, steps between them and pushes them away from each other like Moses parting the red sea. “Thank you for your suggestion, Bruce,” he says, looking Bruce in the eye before he turns to Tony, “ASS? Really?”

“I can get you a card too if you’d like,” Tony says, smiling at him.

Steve shakes his head and laughs. “No, thank you, I’m already part of a business unit technical team.”

Tony stares for a second before he gasps, delighted beyond measure. “Did you just come up with that? Because if so that was absolutely brilliant, you need to come to my business meetings from now on. I can make you my PA.”

“Don’t you already have an assistant?”

“I’m sure I could find space for you,” Tony says, smiling at Steve like he’s the damn moon and sun.

“Oh, could you?” Steve asks, and the way he’s smiling back is almost too much, enough to drown out the rest of the world until Natasha nearly coughs out a lung clearing her throat.

“As lovely as this display of affection is, you mentioned something about finding an inn?” she asks, sweetly, which means she’s planning numerous ways to kill both of them—himself Tony can understand, but Steve too? The man’s a national icon!—as she speaks.

“Yeah, we can trade Thor’s cape for a couple of rooms. ‘Finest fabric in all of Asgard’, you said?” Tony says, grinning as he recalls an earlier conversation with Thor, who looks chagrined but resigned to his fate. This whole thing is technically his fault, and while none of them hold any grudges against their resident Asgardian, if anyone has to sell their clothes for some rooms, it’s him.

It’s Bruce who gets them rooms in a shabby looking inn near one of the town’s bridges, showing that there’s nothing like running away from the US Army for more than five years to develop one’s bargaining skills.

“They only had three rooms left, so we’ll have to room together,” Bruce tells them.

Clint and Natasha immediately take one of the keys and leave, just to be out again in a couple of minutes in search of information. Tony would join them—he’s curious about the drinks in this place—if he wasn’t one step away from passing out on spot, and worrying everyone about that is definitely not something he needs.

Bruce doesn’t bother to ask before he gives Tony and Steve the other key, telling Thor he better not snore too loudly.

Tony turns to Steve, not sure if he should make a joke about this or if that would make it weirder, but Steve beats him to the bush by saying, “We should go get some sleep. You look like a zombie.”

“How did you know flattery was the way to my heart, Cap?”

“Oh my God, will you too just shut up and make out?” Clint shouts, making Steve red in embarrassment and Tony glare in the direction of his voice with so much hate the wood withers.

“Look who’s talking, Barton!”

“What is that supposed to mean?!” Clint asks, way too loud and full of indignation.

“What <i>is</i> that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, more quietly and only for Tony’s ears.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure it will bug him all night. Come on, let’s go to bed. Zombie isn’t a good look on me.”

Their room is a sad little thing, with bare walls that have never seen a wash and only two pieces of furniture; a dresser backed against on the walls and a creaky bed in the corner. There’s only one window, but at least the view is decent; turned towards the river and the other side of town, letting some of the light from outside pool on their floor and try to climb up the walls.

Steve takes the side of the bed that faces the door, making Tony climb over him to get to the side backed against the wall.

“No one’s going to attack us tonight,” Tony says. There’s no malice in his voice, and he wouldn’t have said anything if he wasn’t so tired and the words hadn’t practically come out on their own.

“I know,” Steve replies, not bothering to offer any excuses or added explanations. If someone comes in and tries to attack them, he can protect Tony better like this.

It means something—it means a lot actually—and if Tony were just a little bit braver, he’d take this moment and run with it, shut off his brain for a second and let his subconscious act on his behalf. He’d just have to say the words on his mind, or if that’s too much and not enough, lean in and kiss Steve. It’d be easy, kissing usually is. Maybe that’s the problem; the stone blocking Tony’s path is too simple, and Tony Stark has never done simple well.

Maybe he’s just a coward, and there’s nothing else to it.

Or maybe Tony is careful. He’s been through enough that he’d be an idiot with a death wish if he wasn’t. So instead of saying or doing what he wants to, Tony says, “Thank you,” and, “we’re going to be alright, you know that, right?”

Because it’s Steve and Steve is Captain America, who is bigger than dreams, the hero America never forgot, but he’s also been through a hell of a lot these past couple of months, and it’s important, okay, it’s important that Steve knows everything’s going to be alright. They’re all going to go home, well, the 21st century at least, and that’s a promise.

“I know,” Steve says, slipping underneath the covers. He adds, a little lower, “it’s easier. This. Having everyone. It’s easier.”

Tony nods. He knows what Steve means.

Neither of them says anything else, and Tony goes to sleep with his back towards Steve, figures that’s the appropriate thing to do. Back in his college days, he’d often share a bed with Rhodey after drinking one shot too many and his own apartment was too freaking far away. Rhodey would hog the covers and Tony would have to wrap himself around his friend to stay warm through the night. That had been easy too, in it’s own way.

The next day it’s Thor, who couldn’t knock on a door quietly to save his life, who wakes them up, slipping his head inside the room with a hand over his eyes, “Friends,” he greets, “are you clothed?”

“Oh god, not you too,” Tony groans, flopping down on the bed.

“Yes, Thor,” Steve says, sighing. “What is it?”

“We are about to leave in a search for breakfast and to trade news. Would you like to join us?” Thor asks, ever the image of politeness. That’s another funny thing about Asgardians. All complete fucktrucks, but you couldn’t get politer gods anywhere else.

“Yes, just give us a second,” Steve says, looking back at Tony and smiling at the crumpled sight in front of him. Tony glares at Steve for good measure. His bedhead is nothing to be mocked; it’s stylish, in vogue and all that crap.

“You look good,” Steve says after Thor has left.

“Steve, please, there are only so many jabs at my appearance my fragile ego can take.”

Steve laughs, a full, healthy laugh that has Tony staring at him for too long. “Come on, we need to go see some elves.”

“Not you too. There must be some way we can go back home without the help of any magic or elves,” Tony complains.

Ten minutes later, he finds out there isn’t.

“First things first,” Clint starts, holding up his hands. “That fire on the other side of the city? Totally not me. I was in the bar all night talking to people.”

“You mean being winked at by everyone,” Bruce jokes, sipping his flowery tea. Tony gags at it. Tea is a disgrace.

“It’s not my fault I’m irresistible and everyone here swings both ways,” Clint says, grinning at him. “Also, you weren’t complaining when that guy—”

“Natasha! Didn’t you have something to share?” Bruce interrupts, clamping down on Clint’s mouth with both of his hands to shut him up.

By now, Tony’s pretty sure that everyone in the team but him—and Steve, probably, Steve doesn’t seem the kind of guy to do that stuff—is partaking in one big, fancy, mainly gay orgy. Good for them. Gotta keep young somehow.

Natasha clears her throat to gain everyone’s attention. “We asked around. If there are any major problems, the people here go to three people for help. The Patrician, who is ‘alright, for a dictator, bit weird but a very good dancer’,” Natasha air quotes as she reads from her notes. “The wizards, who ‘couldn’t wipe their own ass if they ever found them, they only ever get things done with pure luck’ and finally the elves. The opinion on them is the same as what the old lady told us. Unfair bargains, but magic powerful enough to get us home.”

“The Patrician…” Tony ventures, but Natasha cuts him off with a shake of her head.

“Ruler of the city, no magical powers as far as people know. He’s a ‘benevolent tyrant’, whatever that is. I doubt he’d be of much help.”

“And where are these elves?” Steve asks. He seems as hesitant as Tony to ask elves for help, but unlike Tony, who is still trying to find another way to get home, Steve has already adjusted to the idea. Bastard.

“Two days travel outside the city. We’ve already bought everything we need for the journey,” Natasha says, while Clint proudly lifts two bags full of supplies. Tony groans and drops his head into his arms, lifting it only to take a small sip of what they call ‘coffee’ in this place. It tastes like ashes from the dirtiest fire pits of hell, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“Then let’s get going. Earth is waiting for us,” Steve says with his Captain America voice, and it’s no wonder or mystery why he was picked by Erskine, why so many people followed him into war in the past and even now. Steve can make anything, no matter how corny or dumb it is, sound important when it’s him saying it. He makes you respect him by simply being himself, regardless of whether you like him or not.

And that is, without a single doubt, far too much of a philosophical thought for Tony to be having at ass o’clock in the morning after having spent the night in the same bed as Steve. It’s time he focuses on the important stuff, like what he’s going to tell Pepper and Rhodey when he gets back. Maybe he should bring them a souvenir? Nothing says “Hey, honey, I missed you” like a troll’s head on a stick.

The watchmen of the city, a tall redhead built like Thor and a scary blonde woman with claws for fingernails, give them funny looks when they leave the city, but they don’t say anything, not even after Clint and Bruce—talk about making the most out of life—wave them goodbye.

And then all they see are trees, and trees, and more trees, mixed with a couple of bushes and the occasional rock. At about noon they pass a rock shaped like Wolverine’s head, and Tony later determines that to be the most exciting event of the day.

For a magical world with trolls, vital and very important members of society according to Clint, and dwarves, also vital and very important members of society, this time according to Bruce, who spent most of the night debating philosophy with Clint and a captain of the city watch, this place isn’t all that exciting.

Good.

If there are two things you don’t want mixed together, it’s excitement and magic. Nothing good ever comes out of that.

Tony tunes out his teammates during most of journey. There is only so much he can hear about the tensions between the trolls and the dwarves, who are apparently at a truce at the moment—seriously, why does he know all this?—before his brain starts to rot away and become fairy dust.

They settle for the day just before the sun goes down, Steve having decided that an early night’s sleep and an early rise is the smartest move. Normally, Tony’s against anything that even remotely resembles a regular sleeping schedule, he’s not part of ASS for no reason, but tonight he finds himself agreeing with Steve.

This mostly because last night’s sleep wasn’t nearly enough for him to get it together, and he’s just now realized that he spent the past three hours designing a giant toaster in his head instead of a portal. At least none of them will need to worry about toast emergencies from now on.

Tony tries to make himself a bed out of leaves for a couple of minutes before he realizes how stupid that is, channels his inner Pepper, and settles on the bare ground like a champion. His back will not be grateful later, but his ego will be flying high.

He’s a little away from the rest of the group, wanting to get some actual peace and quiet, and of course this raises the attention of their resident demigod.

“Anthony? Are you alright?” Thor asks him.

“Just tired, big guy. Nothing to call home about,” Tony replies in what he hopes is an easy going manner, but he must be doing a terrible job at it since Thor sees right through his lie and sits next to him.

“You do not look ‘just tired’,” he says, making two air quotes with his big hands. Not for the first time, Tony notices how Thor doesn’t look a year over twenty-five, but his eyes somehow look older than time itself. It’s from the way the skin around them crinkles when he smiles, something simple and easy to miss that shines a small light on Thor’s true nature.

See, the funny thing about Thor is that, at first glance, he looks like someone who packs a punch and not much else, but then you remember that Thor is what? A thousand years old? And that he might enjoy a good fight more than it’s natural in Tony’s opinion, but that doesn’t dismiss his knowledge, and the fact that he and Steve pretended not to understand how any of the electronical devices in the tower worked for three months just to fuck with everyone else.

“Is it something to do with our current situation?” Thor asks, and Tony goes to dismiss him, it’s fine, they’re fine, they’re going to get back home, no reason for Thor to beat himself up about it, when Thor continues, as if reading Tony’s thoughts, “Or is it something to do with our fellow Captain?”

Tony groans and drops his head in his hands. How does every conversation he has these days end up being about Steve? And more importantly, does everyone know about Tony’s crush?

“You guys know we’re not together, right? Because it’s getting kind of weird how everyone assumes we’re together. Did you know Fury gave me the ‘break his heart and I’ll beat you up’ talk the other week? I thought I was going to get murdered, right there on the spot.”

Thor ignores Tony’s attempt to derail the conversation, cutting straight to the point and asking, “If you wish to be with him, why not just say so?”

Tony groans again and throws himself on the ground to buy himself some time while he figures out what to say. He could lie. He’s good at it, knows all the nuances and tricks, but what’s the point? Thor would see right through him as he always does, and regardless of whether or not he called Tony out on it, they’d both still know the answer to the question.

“He’s Captain America, he’s—” Tony makes a ball with his hands and stretches his arms to open it wide, before he eloquently points to where Steve and Clint are making a fire. “He’s Steve. I can’t just go up to him and tell him I like him. I have to think about the team and our relationship.”

“You and I both know that neither the team, nor your relationship, would be weakened by any romantic intentions between you and the Captain. You are both the leaders, and a stronger bond between you would mean a stronger bond between all of us,” Thor says, as grave as always.

“You have a real way with words, Thor. Does it come with being a god or is it just you?” Tony asks, avoiding the point on purpose.

“Many years spent in my brother’s company have taught me a thing or two,” Thor says. They lapse into silence, both of them watching the rest of the group as they pile around a small fire and cook some of the food they’d brought with them. After a while Thor adds, a hint softer, “Anthony, Steve is like me in many ways. He is a man in another world, another time, but unlike me, he has no other world to return to.”

Tony thinks about this for a couple of seconds, gives Thor a long searching look and even scratches his beard, but he’s got nothing. “I… yes? I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I mean that, though we have both taken guidance in our friends, there are still things that baffle us both. I cannot picture the day where this would happen, but I know that in the direst of circumstances, there will always be a place I can go to if I feel truly unwelcome here. Steve does not hold such certainties.”

“So you’re saying that if I make Steve uncomfortable, he’ll have nowhere to go to? Because if so, let me tell you, you are terrible at this whole pep talk business, honestly—”

“I am saying, my friend, that fear is an irrational thing, and that Steve Rogers, though one of the bravest men I know, is not above it. Our Captain is still in a search for a definite place for himself in this world, and until he finds it, he won’t dare say too much to you in case he oversteps his place. You, however, are not burdened by this fear. Talk to him. You will not regret doing so,” Thor says, and with that he pats Tony on the back and walks off somewhere else, leaving Tony alone to figure out what the hell just happened.

He’s pretty sure Thor just told him Steve likes him back, but is too worried that Tony would be hit by the nutcracker of homophobia and kick him out of the Tower if Steve confessed how he felt. This is partly a good thing, since a one-man boogie is a sad boogie indeed, but at the same time it’s a shitty thing, since it means Steve’s opinion of Tony isn’t all that high if he thinks Tony would kick him out for something like that.

Tony has to do something about this. Probably follow Thor’s—and Rhodey and Pepper and Natasha and Bruce’s advice if he’s honest because he’s had many similar conversations in the past that he’d been ignoring with his superhuman capability for denial—and talk to Steve.

He’ll do it when they get back home, pull Steve to the side and tell him what’s up. A dick joke immediately comes to mind, dammit, it’s like Tony’s mind lives in the gutter.

Tony blames it all on Clint, as most people do.

* * *

Natasha had been the one to figure out where the elves are located, so she’s the one to say, “Hey, guys, we’re here.”

They’re at the entrance of a wide clearing, surrounded by the same trees that cover the woods. In the middle of the clearing is a different kind of tree, or maybe it’s simply an older, much bigger version of the trees surrounding them. It’s taller and fatter, big enough to contain a blue whale standing up. Its branches follow the sun closely, expanding up and down and in every other direction they can reach. There’s a small hole in the tree’s trunk that seems to lead down to a cave. Tony guesses that where they’re headed, and he is not pleased.

“Well, this doesn’t look suspicious at all,” he says.

“Yeah, I don’t like the look of this place either,” Clint says, crossing his arms and giving the big tree a disapproving look.

“This is the best plan we have, let’s give them a chance. They’re elves, they can’t be that bad,” Steve says, earning him a look of open disbelief. Seriously, Steve’s an Avenger, he should know better. “They can’t be worse than us, alright?”

“Touché,” Natasha says, cracking her knuckles.

She enters the clearing, and it hits Tony that they’re really doing this. They’re really going to knock on the doorstep of a bunch of elves and try to bargain with them for a ticket ride home. They’ll probably have to trade their weapons and their clothes, the only remarkable things they have with them, and though Thor’s hammer and Cap’s shield have been ruled off limits, Tony doesn’t feel safe with the idea of leaving their things behind.

From both an outside and an inside perspective, their plan sounds like the perfect recipe for danger. Then again, they’re Avengers. ‘Facing unknown danger’ is practically in their job description.

And yet, Tony can’t help worry that this is it. Something’s gonna happen and this will be it, their last moment, the last time they had some peace and quiet. The conversation he had with Thor last night plays over and over inside his head. Talk to him. Talk to him. Talk to him, idiot!

“Steve! Wait,” Tony calls, too loud, but hopefully the elves are too far the earth to hear them. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Steve asks. Everyone else turns to look at Tony, who doesn’t fidget under the attention, no way, fidgeting is something other people do. Out the corner of his eye, Tony sees Thor give him a big thumbs up, and it’s so ridiculous, so stupidly ridiculous to see Thor act so damn human and to actually have that help Tony feel better. Everything in Tony’s life is ridiculous if you look at it in the right light, and if this all turns out to shit and Steve tells him to bugger off, this will just be another ridiculous thing to add to the list, and that will be that. That will be okay.

Tony walks up to Steve until he’s right in Steve’s space, drops his voice to a whisper so low only Steve and his super hearing can hear him, and says, smooth as butter, “I’m going to kiss you now, and I really, really hope I’m right about this, and you’re okay with that.”

And then he does it. He leans in and kisses Steve softly, closes his eyes and grabs a handful of Steve’s shirt. The fabric is rough against his skin, but Tony doesn’t mind. Steve’s lips are smooth, not a hint of dryness in them, and they’re frozen in place for only two seconds before Tony feels them break into a grin and kiss back.

Oh. So he was right.

Well, that’s good. That’s fantastic, actually.

“Is this a ‘in case we die’ thing?” Steve asks, forehead pressed against Tony’s, so low Tony almost misses the words.

“Yes. I mean, no? It’s a ‘I really like you and I don’t want to die without you knowing that’ thing," Tony says, since kissing Steve has apparently made him a fan of semantics.

Steve laughs, and kisses Tony again, licking open Tony’s mouth with so much confidence and ease he makes Tony falter. He had no idea Captain America was such a great kisser, although he’s voicing no complaints, if that’s what anyone thinks. Their teammates cheer and whistle at the display, but it’s like they’re miles away, for all Tony cares. This right now, this is what matters, not the countless jokes and ‘I fucking knew it’ speeches that are bound to come afterwards.

“We’re not going to die,” Steve says, smiling and squeezing Tony’s hand before he takes a step back. Tony feels a huge smile spreading across his face and doesn’t even bother trying to stop it.

“If you say so, Cap.”

“I wish I had a camera with me right now. Rhodey and Sharon would love to see this,” Clint says, cleaning away a couple of tears Tony hopes for his own good are fake and for entertainment.

“We could recreate the scene with puppets for them to see,” Bruce says, the bloody, stinking traitor.

“Remind me to prank them later when we get back home,” Tony whispers to Steve.

“Sure,” Steve replies, and even though he’s only saying it to amuse him, Tony knows Steve will still follow him into prank war when Tony asks for his help. It’s what he does. “Come on, let’s do this.”

Steve and Tony take the lead, followed close behind by Thor and Natasha, while Clint and Bruce take the rear. Clint in case he needs space to shoot, and Bruce in case he needs space to run away before the Hulk decides to start a party.

“Hulk against a dragon, who would win?” Tony asks as the thought crosses his mind. Steve frowns at him as he enters the creepy tree, but doesn’t comment.

“There is no foe our mighty green warrior could not win against,” Thor says.

“Yeah, the fire would be a problem, but the Hulk has a lot of stamina, he’d win given the time to do so,” Clint adds.

“Not if the dragon got a good hit on him,” Natasha comments.

“Guys, is now really the time?” Bruce asks, while Steve hums in agreement.

“This is a very important discussion, Brucie,” Tony says, just to irk him.

He has to lean on Steve to go over a root, while ducking down at the same time to avoid hitting the roof of the tunnel they’re in. The walls around them are solid wood, humid to the touch and as hard as rock. Besides Tony’s arc reactor, there’s no light anywhere to guide them, which gives the small tunnel an eerie, you’re-about-to-walk-into-your-deaths mood.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Clint whispers, and everyone hums in agreement.

“Do you wanna talk or should I?” Steve asks Tony as they reach the end of the tunnel and stop in front of a richly decorated door, with golden flowers and other designs scattered around its frame.

“I’ll start, take over if you think you should,” Tony says, because he’s not a pushover—anymore, okay—and he trusts Steve’s judgement. Also, him and magic don’t mix well together and he’s made one too many snide comments about it to trust that he won’t make more now.

Steve’s about to knock—actually knock, as if they’re greeting their next-door neighbors and not a bunch of elves that live under a giant tree—when the door opens on its own. Two elves, guards from the look of their spears, stand by the door. Behind them is a small room, completely empty besides the torches on the walls, which seem to be made out of clay. One of them asks, “What is your purpose here?”

“We are distant travellers who have come to ask for help. We bring gifts,” Tony says. It’s always good to mention you have gifts. Everyone loves a good gift.

The elves eye them before one of them nods and leads them another room, this one more spacious, with various tunnels leading elsewhere, and more importantly, a throne right in the middle. “Bow down to the Queen,” one of the elves commands.

The whole thing seems straight out of a cheap fantasy movie based on D&D. Tony only hopes the dice are rigged to help them, and not the other side.

“Who are you and what do you want?” the Queen asks them.

Tony clears his throat and takes a step forward so that he looks like the head of the group. It’s show time.

“Your Highness, we are travellers from a distant land, and we ask for your help so that we can return to it. In exchange we offer you some of the riches from our land,” Tony says. He spreads his arms and he knows that behind him, Natasha is lifting their clothes from their bags. It’s not much, but it’s something, and some of their weapons are also up for sale if it comes down to it.

“Can you not walk back to where you came from?” the Queen asks, smiling as if she’s just said something hilarious beyond measure. Must have from the way her subjects all laugh.

“It is too far away. You could even go as far as to say that it’s in a different world,” Tony says, giving her his most charming smile. Her face remains as stony and bored as if he hadn’t said anything, so Tony changes tactics. “Your tremendous power is known throughout the land. Many speak of it in wonder. We ask that you share but a small part of it with our humble selves. It is impossible for us to return without your help, your Highness.”

The Queen looks at all of them in silence before finally, she says, “We have what you need.”

She lifts a single lazy finger in direction to one of the many corridors next to her throne, and out of it come two elves, shorter and with bluer skin, holding a mirror a few inches smaller than Steve. “It is powered by sunlight.”

“Really?” Tony can’t help asking, earning him a sharp glare from the Queen.

“ _Really_. That and powerful elven magic,” the Queen says with a smirk.

She calls the two elves carrying the mirror towards her with a crook of one of her fingers, and then whispers something too low for Tony to catch against the mirror’s wooden frame. The whole thing burns bright white. After a couple of seconds, the color fades away from the frame, but stays in the mirror’s surface, making it look a rudimentary, stone-age portal.

“Portals are always the answer,” Tony whispers to himself, earning him a questioning look from Steve before he turns to the Queen.

“And what would you like for it in return, your Highness?” Steve asks. He’s measuring his words carefully, a perfect diplomat, fully in the knowledge that one step in the wrong direction with someone like this would be saying bye-bye to their chances of getting home easily.

“I want,” the Queen says, eyeing them before her luxurious throne before she gets up, slowly, owner of all the time in the world, and takes a couple of steps in their direction, “that.”

She points one of her tiny fingers at Tony, more specifically, the blue light in Tony’s chest. Well, shit.

“I’m sorry, but that’s out of the question. Please pick something else,” Steve replies without missing a beat, moving in front of Tony so he can block him from view, as if that would magically make the Queen forgot about him.

“I _want_ it,” the Queen says. The look of perfect content on her face changes to one full of venom for a second, with her mouth forming a thin line of badly repressed annoyance and her eyes slitting in anger. Her skin also turns a darker shade of green, and that doesn’t disappear. Not so in control after all. Tony can’t decide if that’s good or bad.

Tony can’t see Steve’s face with Steve standing in front of him, but he’d bet a thousand dollars Steve’s frowning as well from the way his voice has turned ten degrees colder. “You can’t have it.”

The Queen sneers, looking down on them from her place in front of the throne. A pair of hands grab Tony and pull him back until he’s at the end of the group, sandwiched between Bruce and Clint who keep a close eye on him while Natasha steps forward to help negotiate and Thor takes a very firm, very clear ‘I will literally break everything in his room if any of you take one step towards us’ stance.

“I could—” Tony begins to say, unsure himself of what he’s offering. He could what? Hand over his arc reactor and hope they’re transported back in time for him to get a spare one from the tower? It’s risky, but he could do it.

“Not a chance,” Bruce cuts him off, not even looking at Tony.

“But—”

“It’s not happening, Stark,” Clint says, his words final.

Tony wants to say something, this is his choice after all, except he knows, without thinking too much, that it isn’t. If it were the other way around, and somebody else had to give up the life-support battery in their chest for their ticket out of there, Tony would knock them out and drag their body away before he’d let them take a single step towards floral queen over there.

It’s funny what being in a team you actually like—don’t let Fury hear him say that or he’ll never hear the end of it—does to a person.

"Hey, Bruce,” Clint whispers, tapping Bruce on the back with his arm, “I’m gonna steal it."

"You’re going to do _what_?" Tony whispers back, but Clint keeps speaking over him as if he isn’t even there.

"The thing’s already on so we just need to get somewhere safe and sunny. Can you create a distraction?"

"No problem,” Bruce says, and he’s smiling, motherfucker, he’s been spending way too much time with Clint and Natasha. No good can come of this, no good whatsoever. “Hey, asslamps! You wanna see me get mad?"

“Oh, no,” Tony sighs.

What happens next happens so quickly that it can be summarized in three words: running, shouting and fire. Where the last part came from, Tony has no clue, but he’s not questioning it right now either.

The elves’ cave, while rather large for something built inside a tree, isn’t nowhere near large enough to contain the Hulk, which results in everyone running to the exit while Clint walks towards the danger, as usual, quickly followed by Clint running out and screaming, “I’ve got it! Run, run run!”

They run with Thor and the Hulk, making sure all the Elves stay at a safe distance away until the finally give up the chase. By the time they get to stop, some two hours after, the sun’s beginning to set and Tony feels like he’s about to have a heart attack.

Seriously. He has a heart condition. He can’t go off and run for two hours like he’s some kind of super-soldier at this age. Pepper and Rhodey will have a fit.

“Tony, are you ok?” Steve asks, seeing the condition Tony is in. Steve’s not having a fit though, which is great. Steve’s great.

“If I die, tell Pepper—” he sucks in a breath, “I was serious about that asgardian thing. On my tombstone. Dead serious.”

“Tony,” Steve reprehends. He puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder, the other on Tony’s head to lift it up and fuck, if seeing Steve worrying about him like this doesn’t hurt more than the running.

“I’m good. I’m okay. I just need a minute to unwind,” Tony says, looking him in the eye in the hopes it will make Steve believe it.

Steve nods and kisses Tony, a simple peck on the lips, before standing up and asking. “Everyone else alright?”

There are numerous grunts of confirmation that all make Tony relaxe further. After a couple of seconds he gives up on trying to stay up and flops on the ground. Standing up is for the demigod and the supersoldier, Tony’s going to chill down here for a while now.

“How the hell was ‘asslamps’ the best you had?” Tony pants. He tries to give the Hulk the best glare he’s got, but it’s rather hard to do so with his lungs still trying to make a run for it. “I taught you better than that, young one.”

The Hulk sits down on the ground, which is to say he tells his knees to take a break and creates a mini-earthquake, and says, “Hulk like funny words.”

“What just happened?”

“Clint stole the portal,” Tony says, looking at the mirror in Clint’s hands. The mirror. “Which is no longer working. Fuck.”

“What?!” Clint asks, high-pitched as a goddamn bug. He shakes the mirror in his hands and even gives it a little kick, getting it taken away from him by Natasha, who glares at Clint like he’s a misbehaving little boy, which, if you think about it, he kind of is. “She must have turned it off when I took from her. Shit.”

If Tony were younger, meaner, dumber and generally more like what he used to be before he became Iron Man, he would now be rambling off his ass about how they ran for three hours and almost died for a useless, piece of shit mirror. Thankfully, he’s no longer that person, and he can appreciate the fact that they just ran for three hours and almost died so he wouldn’t have to. He can appreciate it a lot.

“Unless any of you speak magic mumbo jumbo or picked up what Queen Evil said, let’s dump this one in the trash can and move on with plan B. Magic’s always bound to fuck up anyway,” Tony says.

They’ll need to find another city, start a life there while they build the portal. It will be rough, his nose will never forgive him, but after they can get everyone on board with sewage and electricity it will make things easier. Wonder how people here feel about witchcraft and gods, because Tony’s got a few tricks up his sleeve that will either get him burnt at the stake or on top of a throne. And of course, he—

“Was it the words or was it because she said them?” Steve asks, breaking Tony out of his reverie.

“Who knows, probably—” Tony stops talking mid sentence as Steve’s words hit him. He sits up like a zombie in a bad 80s horror movie and stares at Steve with his eyes open far too wide. “Do you mean you—?”

“I heard what she said. I could try saying it, see if it works.”

“How does that even work? She had her hand hiding her mouth and Thor’s breathing must have been louder than her voice,” Clint asks, lifting one eyebrow in confusion.

“I’m used to stretching my hears to listen to Tony’s ramblings in the workshop. He speaks really low sometimes,” Steve replies, way too nonchalantly for someone who’s just dropped a truth bomb like this.

“Wait, you’ve been listening to me rambling?”

Son-of-a-bitch, of course he has. Tony never watches his mouth when he’s in the workshop. Has he said anything awful? Well, more awful than usual? He’ll have to go through all his files and ask JARVIS, but he can’t have said anything too bad if Steve hasn’t mentioned. Oh, but what about embarrassing stuff? Steve would never mention any of those in fear of making things more awkward. Unless he’s saving it to embarrass Tony, which he totally could be, that innocent big blue eyes look he’s always giving everyone is a total facade.

“Tony, stop freaking out, we need everyone to stay focused. Steve, do it,” Natasha says, like the voice of God breaking through the grey clouds of internal freak out about having said embarrassing stuff in the presence of Captain America.

Tony’s still blaming all of this on lack of proper sleep.

They all stand in front of the mirror, with Clint holding it up, and just as the sun goes down, Steve whispers a couple of magic words Strange will love to hear about later and the mirror starts to shine.

“It worked. Motherfucker, it worked,” Tony says, staring at the thing with his mouth open.

As it did before, the light leaves the mirror’s surface, making it transparent, but this time around it doesn’t stop by the wooden frame. Instead it grows steadily bigger and bigger, reaching towards them so they don’t have to walk to it. On the other side of portal, there’s another world, with normal-looking trees and a clear, light blue sky.

“We’re going home,” Steve says, squeezing Tony’s hand. Tony’s pretty sure he’s being extra corny on purpose to see if he can get Tony to blush, which is why Tony keeps looking straight ahead at the meadows of grass on the other side of the portal and only blushes a little bit.

“Guys, I hate being the one to break the bad news, but unless the Earth has recently gained a second sun, I don’t think we’re going home,” says Clint, who is standing closer to the portal than the rest of them and peering inside.

Steve shoots Tony a panicked look and grips Tony’s hand tighter, but it’s too late, the portal is already swallowing them, and all Tony has time to do is say what they’re all thinking.

“Aw, shit.”


End file.
